A Tale of a Thief
by teddylupin-snape
Summary: Mundungus Fletcher. Some may call him a thief. I call him a story waiting to be unraveled. Drabbles/One-Shots about the life of Mundungus Fletcher.


**Author's Note: **Hey there! So basically, this fanfic is going to be seven drabbles and one-shots that will focus in on specific events in the life of Mundungus Fletcher.

This chap focuses on a segment of the relationship between Dung and Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore gained Mundungus' loyalty after he helped him out of a 'tight spot.' Thanks to Budapest All Over Again and thegenuineimitation for the inspiration to get me going on this!

This whole fic was written for:

The Snakes and Ladders Challenge (1st roll: Mundungus Fletcher)

and

The Colours of the Rainbow Drabble/One shot Challenge (Colour: Violet)

Please R&R!

* * *

_Violet: The colour of Imagination and Spirituality. Inspires make-believe and improvisation._

* * *

Mundungus crept as quickly as he dared, trying simultaneously to avoid detection and to make sure that he wasn't making a wrong turn. Pockets laden with gold and priceless treasures, he broke into a mad dash for the exit. As he did so, he heard the unmistakable footfalls of many Ministry guards. Still running, he whipped out his wand, dropping a few of his looted goods in the process, and fired spells and curses wildly over his shoulder. He risked a glance behind him, and saw two fallen officials. The rest fell back, choosing to come to the aid of their companion rather than resume the pursuit of the thief.

_So close..._ he told himself. _Just a few more paces, I can make it!_

As though appearing out of nowhere, a half-dozen more armed watchmen came hurtling towards him. Firing off Stunning Spells and jinxes, Mundungus rounded the final corner, and the egress came into view.

He flung open the door, half-glancing behind him at his pursuers, and sighed in a sharp intake of fresh air.

_Aha! I've done it! And those Ministry fools will never be the wiser, _he thought, pulling down the hood of his cloak. He re-adjusted his looted goods, and prepared to Apparate, but—

"STOP, THEIF!" Mundungus faltered in fear at the raised voice of this man. The Minister, he suddenly recognized. Shit!

There were a series of loud 'pop's from all around him. He froze. What other option did he have? They knew his identity now, for he had removed his hood. Even if he Disapparated, they would be able to track him down.

Though he might stay, he wouldn't surrender. His grubby hands stayed firmly at his side, as his face turned upon that of the Minister.

Cornelius Fudge, looking more flustered than frustrated, placed his bowler hat firmly upon his head before taking a few steps forward. Now mere inches away from Mundungus' face, he firmly stated his accusations:

"You have been stealing from this museum." It was not a question. Mundungus kept his face blank, seemingly unperturbed by being caught. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime, and will face trial in court on the—," Fudge continued, before being cut off by another Apparator.

Albus Dumbledore appeared out of nowhere, his robes billowing in the slight wind. Mundungus looked up into the face of the new arrival, and changed his scheming look to one of calm and safety. _Of course, Dumbledore would get me out of this! Has he ever failed me – or anyone – before? No. _There was no reason for Albus Dumbledore to fail Mundungus now, when he had gotten people out of much tighter spots before now. Fudge, no matter how little he wanted to admit it, looked up to Dumbledore, and took into account his words.

Dumbledore shot Mundungus a meaningful look – one that told him not to interrupt – and turned to Cornelius.

"My dear Minister, I do not believe that it was Mr. Fletcher's intention to steal any of these priceless artifacts. I asked him to meet me here, so we could discuss a few…" Dumbledore cleared his throat before continuing, "_private_ matters. You will please excuse us." Dumbledore strode forward, taking a soft-fingered hold upon Mundungus' upper arm, leading him away from the prying eyes of the Ministry officials.

Once out of earshot, Dumbledore turned to face Mundungus. A look of relief passed over Fletcher's face, which he attempted to mask upon seeing the grave look upon Albus' face. Dumbledore, however, didn't miss this.

"You must tread carefully, Mundungus," Dumbledore whispered urgently. "I may not be there to save you a second time. In fact, if I had not been here tonight, you would already be on your way to Azkaban. I don't doubt they already have a cell with your name on it, after all of your little 'shopping sprees.'" Mundungus chuckled at this analogy, but his face flushed upon seeing the now stern, piercing stare that Dumbledore gave him. It reminded him uncomfortably of his youth, when – as a boy at Hogwarts – he had fallen prey to a number of these unnerving gazes.

He looked up into Albus' blue eyes, and felt ashamed. Mundungus Fletcher rarely felt ashamed. He found the nerve to ask, "How…Why – why did you…do that—cover up for me? What did you… I—"

Dumbledore flushed slightly, whispering, "I…improvised."

"You mean lied."

It was Dumbledore's turn to feel uncomfortable. "I…suppose you could say that."


End file.
